


The Evidence Of Your Fingertips

by CapedCommissioner (smittenbritain)



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mutual Pining, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-02
Updated: 2020-08-23
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:54:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 19,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25672396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smittenbritain/pseuds/CapedCommissioner
Summary: Bruce had never expected to find his soulmate, and Jim had figured that he was done at one after his ex-wife. Finding out thattheywere soulmates was complicated enough without the elephant - or bat - in the room.
Relationships: Jim Gordon/Bruce Wayne
Comments: 22
Kudos: 94





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Do not interact if you ship any incest pairings!

Jim was decidedly  _ not _ a fan of big events. It was one of the few things he disliked about his job: that, and addressing the public. Slap some reporters on top of that, and it was a match made in hell.

Still, it was part of what was expected of him as commissioner, and Jim was determined to set a good example for whoever followed after him. He usually got a free drink or two out of it, and he could pretend that his social calendar was busy for just long enough to show his face. As long as the mayor saw him, he could get away with a short stay.

As he stared down the open doors of Wayne Manor, though, Jim had a feeling that it was going to be a long night. 

It was a busy fundraiser, something for the Gotham Children’s Hospital. The worthy cause had drawn in both the city’s leaders and its elite, gathering them here for an evening of polite drinking and chatter as they committed some amount of money to bettering one of Gotham’s most important buildings. Jim didn’t exactly have billions sitting around like some of the others here, but he’d already put aside his own two cents. He had a cheque tucked into his breast pocket, ready to hand over to Wayne when he saw him. 

Wayne Manor was just as grand on the inside, though the giant open space of the lobby was filled with people and the gentle sound of classical music. The stairs leading to the upper floors had been roped off, but a few doors on the ground floor were open, leading into a couple of parlours and a dining room. Finely dressed guests wandered the floor with flutes of champagne in hand, chatting amongst themselves with cheeks that had turned rosy with alcohol.

Jim reached up to adjust his tie, feeling a little self-conscious. Sure, he always dressed well enough for work, but he didn’t exactly like being wrapped up in an actual suit. It felt constricting.

“Commissioner Gordon! So wonderful to see you here.”

He turned, and there was the mayor approaching him. She looked both beautiful and professional tonight in a suit of her own, and her hair was pinned neatly out of the way. Much like everyone else, she held a bubbling glass as she came towards him.

“Evening, Mayor,” Jim said, cracking a smile. “Looks like you’re enjoying yourself already.”

“Everyone deserves a night off, Jim, even those like you and I.” Mayor Price raised an eyebrow, tilting her glass towards him. “Would you like a drink?”

“No thank you, ma’am. I’m driving myself home later.” 

Price accepted his answer with a nod, easily letting it pass. As much as Jim knew he deserved a good drink, he wanted to wait until he was home so he couldn’t embarrass himself as easily. “Have you been here long?”

“Just arrived.” Jim glanced away, peering across the crowd. “Is Mr. Wayne around? I need to hand over my donation.”

“You’re actually just in time.” Smiling, Price turned, gesturing for him to follow. “Mr. Wayne was planning on making a speech soon, but we might be able to catch him first.”

She weaved her way through the crowd with frightening ease, and Jim trailed in her wake. People parted for Price in a way that Jim had never seemed to get, despite the two of them wanting the same thing: a better, more peaceful Gotham. That was fine with him, though. He’d never wanted to be the subject of public worship. He much preferred quietly doing his work instead of parading it around for all to see.

Wayne had clearly sought out a quieter corner of the lobby, tucked down the side of the stairs. When Jim rounded the corner behind Price, he saw him in hushed conversation with his butler, who inclined his head politely when he spotted them.

“Good evening, Mayor Price, Commissioner Gordon,” he said. “Apologies, I was just discussing matters of the house with Master Bruce. Excuse me.”

“There’s no rush,” Price said. “I’m just here to introduce Commissioner Gordon to Mr. Wayne.” 

Jim hated to admit it, but Wayne was handsome. He’d always thought so - everyone knew it, of course, with his face plastered over the news all of the time - but he’d never really had the opportunity to speak to the man up close. Now, though, he could see a kindness that he hadn’t expected in those startlingly blue eyes, and it was reflected in his smile.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Commissioner,” Wayne said, and for once, the words sounded genuine. “Fantastic work with the the arrests last night, by the way.”

“Please, I can’t take all the credit. It was mostly Batman.” The compliment, no matter how sincerely it was meant, rolled off of Jim easily. He wasn’t in his job for praise, although the recognition  _ was _ nice sometimes when he had earned it himself. 

Something about that amused Wayne. The corner of his lips ticked up with a quiet chuckle that seemed bizarrely familiar, though Jim couldn’t place it. “And I’m sure he’d say the same about you.”

“Gotham is very lucky to have the both of you,” Price agreed, smiling against the rim of her glass. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to speak to the Chief of Medicine before someone else borrows him.” She vanished amongst the crowd again as smoothly as she had appeared at the door. Jim couldn’t help wondering if she had some kind of power for seeking out those in Gotham with a title.

When Jim turned back to Wayne, he was still watching him, polite but expectant. His butler still hovered at his elbow, his features neutral as he scanned the crowd beyond their little pocket of peace. 

“So,” Wayne said, “was there something that you wanted to discuss? I assume that’s why Mayor Price brought you over here.”

“Oh, yeah.” Jim tucked his hand inside his suit jacket, plucking out the envelope containing his cheque. “My donation. It’s not the biggest, but…”

Wayne sent him a warm look. “Please, Commissioner, every bit helps, no matter how small. Thank you. I’ll make sure it’s safely put away with the others.” 

As Jim offered him the envelope, Wayne reached out to take it. Jim had intended to give Wayne plenty of room to take it, but he’d miscalculated, and their fingers brushed.

He almost dropped the envelope as a jolt ran from his fingertips up to his inner wrist. It felt like a static shock, just like when Jim pulled his sheets out of the dryer, and it was over in an instant, though it left his skin tingling in its wake. The sensation was concentrated at the thinnest skin on the inside of his arm, just about hidden by the cuff of his sleeve, but Jim knew what would be there without looking.

It was an experience he’d had only once before: when he’d first held hands with his ex-wife, Deborah. 

They were soulmates. After that first touch, they’d each carried the other’s initials. Even now, several years after their amicable divorce, they were still right there on Jim’s wrist; after all, a soulmate wasn’t necessarily romantic, and they had maintained their friendship throughout the proceedings and the paperwork. In the end, it had simply been a case of realising their specific bond worked better as a platonic one, and she'd gotten the hell out of Gotham.

Jim had heard of people having multiple soulmates, but he didn’t know much about it. He had assumed that, like most others, he was done at one, and if he was lucky he’d find someone else to settle down with who was in the same situation as him.

Instead, he now found himself in the rare situation of having two: a woman who was his best friend, and now whatever he was supposed to have with Bruce fucking Wayne of all people.

For one moment, Jim almost wondered if it had been a misfire. Neither of them had checked yet, so he could pretend that it was just the other initials acting up. He’d heard about that, too. Sometimes it wasn’t right, for whatever reason. 

But then Wayne shifted, his free hand drifting to his wrist to rub against it with a frown, and Jim knew they had a problem.

“Sir?” Pennyworth stepped closer, a concerned little furrow between his brows as he peered at Wayne. “Are you alright?”

Wayne glanced at Jim, a thousand questions in his gaze, and it was all Jim could do not to crumble under the weight of them. It had made sense the first time around - they’d been dating in high school, and things had just fallen into place for a while - but this was just  _ confusing. _ He didn’t  _ know _ Wayne. He didn’t know what to expect.

“I’m fine, Alfred,” Wayne said eventually. He cleared his throat politely, and then offered the envelope to his butler. “Would you mind putting this with the others in my study? You can take the night off after that, don’t worry about the fundraiser.”

“Of course, sir. Thank you. Enjoy the rest of the fundraiser.” Pennyworth tucked the envelope away in a pocket, and then he whisked away, disappearing down the labyrinthine corridors of the manor.

Jim itched to look at his wrist, as if to confirm things for himself, but he didn’t. Wayne was watching him with a curious little look, and he just kept thumbing that one spot on his sleeve. 

Eventually, Wayne sighed and looked away. “I hate to make an excuse and run, but we don’t have time to talk now. I have to make a speech.”

To Jim’s surprise, he didn’t seem that excited about it. He’d imagined that Bruce Wayne loved the spotlight, as that was the way that the papers always depicted him. Really, he knew that he should have known better, having been a victim to media twists himself. “That’s fine,” Jim said, nodding stiffly. “Tonight’s, uh… not a great time to work things out.”

“Not exactly.” Wayne finally left his wrist alone, and Jim let go of a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding. “We can talk later. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Jim summoned a smile just to reassure Wayne, though he wasn’t sure that he felt it himself. “We’ll work something out later in the week, you do what you need to first.” 

Wayne adjusted his sleeve, twitching it just to make sure it covered the new mark on his wrist. “I think it goes without saying, but… let’s keep this between us for now. I’d rather not give reporters any ammo.”

“I wasn’t planning on spreading it,” Jim promised. Considering how high profile Wayne was, he wasn’t even sure if he wanted to discuss it with Debbie. She was trustworthy and she’d keep anything secret if Jim asked her to, but this wasn’t exactly a situation where he could ask her for advice. It was, unfortunately, a ridiculously unique position to find himself in. 

“Thank you,” Wayne said quietly. He hesitated, and then reached out to briefly squeeze Jim’s arm. “I’ll talk to you later.”

By the time Wayne slipped behind the rope to climb halfway up the stairs, there was a smile on his face like nothing had happened. People turned to look at him, already clapping before he’d even started speaking, and Wayne laughed and waved charmingly as the attention turned to him. Maybe he did like being in front of a crowd after all.

Jim stayed long enough to hear Wayne’s speech - it was generic but sweet; Wayne discussed the good the hospital did for the youth of Gotham, bringing up a few notable examples here and there - and then he slipped out as people dispersed again to talk. No doubt there’d be another flurry of donations from those who had a little more money in their pockets, and the hospital would be nicely funded for the upgrades it needed.

All in all, Jim had stayed for maybe thirty minutes. It was his personal best for getting in and out. 

Once he was at his car and in the driver’s seat, he tugged up his right sleeve. Right there, below his ex-wife’s initials, was a new set:  _ BW. _

His head dropped back against his seat with a thump.

* * *

It was safe to say that Bruce had never really expected to find his soulmate. Given the life he led, it just seemed irresponsible - although Bruce had had his fair share of irresponsibility, too. It had been some time since anything had graduated past casual dinner dates, though, and he’d been perfectly fine with that. Alfred already worried about him enough when he swept out into Gotham at night, and Bruce hadn’t been in a hurry to add anyone else to the mix.

The fact that Commissioner Gordon was his soulmate made things a little more complicated.

He knew Jim already; he was good friends with Batman, but he barely knew Bruce Wayne. It put him in the strange position of feeling comfortable with Jim, while on the other hand, Jim had just discovered a bond with someone who was almost a total stranger. All he had to go on was the news and their one conversation.

He didn’t even tell Alfred until the morning after the fundraiser. He felt a little guilty for doing so after he’d asked Jim to keep things private, but Alfred felt different. Alfred was his father figure and his partner in stopping crime, after all.

_ And _ he knew the intricacies of this little problem.

“Ah,” Alfred said simply, staring down at Bruce’s exposed wrist.

He shook his arm so his sleeve fell down to cover the neat little  _ JG _ on his skin. “It was when he gave me the envelope,” Bruce said, rubbing at his temple. “I… didn’t know what to do, so I told him we’d speak later this week.”

“An understandable decision,” Alfred said. “Have you reached out to Commissioner Gordon yet to arrange that?”

Bruce looked down at his dinner instead. He felt a little like a teenager again, when Alfred had gently reprimanded him. “No, not yet. I’m going to be busy with the hospital while I make arrangements, and then there’s Wayne Enterprises and Batman…”

He trailed off as the weight of Alfred’s gaze grew heavier. “Bruce, if you don’t mind me saying so, I think that this is something you should address sooner rather than later. The longer you two leave things uncertain, the harder it’ll be to decide where you stand.”

“Easier said than done,” Bruce muttered, picking at his food. “Keeping Batman hidden won’t be a great start to any relationship anyway.” He didn’t even know what he wanted from it himself yet, and he hadn’t entertained the thought too much.

“He  _ is _ your soulmate, Bruce, and you already have a working relationship with him.” Alfred raised his eyebrows, as polite as ever but still somehow faintly amused. “I highly doubt Commissioner Gordon, of all people, would reveal your identity.”

Bruce went silent on the matter after that, choosing instead to skirt the topic and move onto something else. Of course, Alfred went along with it, despite how clunky he was at changing the subject. 

He didn’t even realise that he didn’t have Jim’s phone number until he took a breather. The funds were settled, handed over to the hospital so they could start work, and now Bruce could take a brief break. Annoyingly enough,  _ Batman _ had Jim’s mobile number, but  _ Bruce Wayne _ didn’t. He could probably use it anyway and explain things away, but Bruce really didn’t want Jim’s first impression of him to be of his money and power. 

It was odd, he thought. He was close friends with his soulmate, but the same man had no clue who he was.

* * *

Jim waited by the Batsignal, puffing away at a cigarette. He sat on the low wall running around the small area of the GCPD roof that was actually meant to be walkable, and he idly tapped his cigarette to get rid of the ashes clinging to the end. As they scattered at his feet, he glanced up at the sky, watching the clouds shift and warp the Batsignal’s shape.

There was the flutter of a cape and the telltale crunch of boots on gravel. Jim knew that Batman could be much stealthier than that, but he never was with Jim these days.

“Good evening, Commissioner,” Batman said. His voice was a growl, just like always. Jim was pretty sure he had some kind of voice modulator hidden in the throat of that suit.

“Evening, Batman,” he replied tiredly. His cigarette was almost down to the butt now, so Jim dropped it to put it out under his heel. 

When he returned his gaze to the rooftop, Batman was there, standing next to the Batsignal and watching him carefully. “What did you want?” he asked, head tilted.

Jim scooped up the file next to him and offered it to Batman. “Here. It’s the files from those guys we arrested before the weekend. I know you said you wanted to look into some stuff, so I got you some copies. Enjoy your bedtime reading.” 

Batman chuckled as he tucked the file under his arm. “Thank you. I won’t keep them long.”

“Take your time, you’ve never caused us problems by having them.” Jim’s fingers twitched on his knee. He wanted another smoke, but he kept his hands where they were. The stress of the last few days was getting to him, though. “Catch anyone else we need to know about?”

“No. Nothing noteworthy.” Batman stared him down, seeming to consider something, and when Jim wasn’t forthcoming, he eventually spoke up again. “Are you okay, Commissioner?”

“Me? I’m fine. Why?”

Batman was so unreadable under the mask. Jim liked to think he’d gotten better at learning Batman’s tells over the years - when he looked between the lines, there was so much in just that small portion of his face he  _ could _ see, and his body language could tell whole stories sometimes - but right now, he was a closed book. If anything, it seemed like Batman was hiding something too, but Jim knew better than to pry. Batman didn’t tell him anything detailed about his personal life, and Jim was more than fine with not knowing. He was his friend, and he respected his privacy.

“You look like something’s on your mind,” Batman said. He came closer, dropping down to sit beside Jim on the wall. “If you’d like to talk… I’ll listen.”

Jim grimaced, and he reached up to rub at the bridge of his nose under his glasses. “I, uh… I met my soulmate the other night.”

“Congratulations.”

“It’s complicated,” Jim added, waving him off. “It’s… It’s Bruce Wayne.” 

Batman was silent. He just watched Jim, carefully neutral behind the white eyes of his mask. 

So Jim continued, raking his fingers through his hair like he had so many times tonight already. “I’ve never spoken to the guy before. Seems nice enough, but I was just donating to that fundraiser for the kids’ hospital, and we bumped hands.” He tugged back his sleeve just enough to display the letters imprinted on his wrist. “And there you have it. We haven’t talked yet, haven’t had time. He hasn’t reached out and I don’t exactly have his number.”

The corners of Batman’s lips tilted down. “He’s not your only soulmate,” he said.

Jim followed his gaze, looking once again at the other set of initials. “Yeah. My ex-wife.”

It wasn’t exactly a closed answer, but Jim knew that it didn’t really invite further conversation. “I see.”

“I don’t know if he’s got anyone else,” Jim said, pulling his sleeve back down again. “If he has, he’s kept it quiet.”

“He doesn’t.”

Jim shot a look across at Batman. “He doesn’t?”

Batman shook his head, slow and firm. “No. He doesn’t.”

“Huh.” Jim had assumed that Wayne had found someone else along the way. Publicly, he was single, but that didn’t necessarily mean anything. Even now, with that one comment from Batman, it was entirely possible that Wayne was still seeing someone privately. “Not sure why I’m surprised.” He drummed his fingers on his knee, thinking. “You found yours, Batman?”

There was a beat of silence, and when Batman spoke, he seemed to be choosing his words carefully. “I did recently,” he admitted, tilting his head down to look at his lap - no, his covered wrist, Jim realised. “I… It was unexpected.”

“You figured out what you’re gonna do yet?”

“No.” Batman exhaled a long, slow breath through his nose. “I met him as… me. Not as Batman.”

Jim whistled. “Yeah, that’ll complicate things.” 

They fell into companionable silence. Jim considered a second cigarette again, but he still didn’t go for the box in his pocket. He was deadly curious about Batman’s situation, only because he himself was in a difficult one. He didn’t voice any of the questions circling his brain, though. There was no point when he’d only get limited details for it.

“You should talk to your soulmate,” Jim said instead, looking over at Batman. “I don’t know if you should tell him about all of this, but…” He paused, trying to find the right words. “You’re a good guy, Batman. Whoever he is, he’s a lucky guy to have you in his corner.”

“I could say the same to you, Commissioner.” Batman’s lips ticked up in a little smile. It was sweet, familiar. “You should speak to Wayne when you can. I happen to know that he’s fond of your work.”

Jim shook his head with a quiet, disbelieving chuckle. “Trying to be a wingman now, huh? I didn’t know that was under your job description.”

For the first time, Jim actually saw Batman grin. He laughed quietly as he stood, his cape whispering across the ground as it settled behind him once again. “For a friend, I’ll add it temporarily. Have a good night, Commissioner. I hope things work out with your soulmate.”

“Yours too, Batman.”

He watched as Batman grappled away, vanishing amongst the shadows of the Gotham rooftops. And, despite his reservations, Jim had to admit that his friend had made him feel a little better.

* * *

“I didn’t hear you come home, Bruce.”

“Sorry, Alfred.” Bruce glanced up from the file on the desk, offering Alfred a little smile as he approached across the Batcave. “I was just reading this before I scan it into the Batcomputer.”

Alfred set down his tea tray on an empty corner of the desk reserved just for that very purpose, and then he peered over Bruce’s shoulder. “Ah. I see you’ve visited Commissioner Gordon.” He paused, and Bruce felt the way Alfred took in his state of dress; Bruce had only shrugged off the cowl of the Batsuit, and it had left him fully armoured from the neck down. Clearly, he’d sat down immediately after getting back home. 

He could feel Alfred’s silent question hanging in the air over his head, so he relented. “Jim had some information to give me,” Bruce said. “He put up the signal, so I came.”

Alfred turned away, and Bruce heard the gentle clink of a teaspoon against the china of the cups. “Am I to assume that you did not discuss any personal matters?”

“We didn’t,” Bruce confirmed. He didn’t particularly want to go any further on the matter, but he forged ahead anyway, clearing his throat before he spoke just to make sure his voice would stay steady. “I do plan on inviting him to my office at Wayne Tower to talk, though. As me, obviously, not as Batman.”

“Isn’t Wayne Tower a touch formal for such a discussion?” Alfred set a cup of tea next to the keyboard for Bruce, already with its appropriate sugar and milk added. 

“Thank you.” Bruce scooped it up for a sip, enjoying the warmth of it on his tongue. “And it probably is, but it’s the best neutral space I could come up with. It’s Wayne Tower or a public space, and I’d much rather have that conversation in private.”

Alfred pulled up an extra chair to settle down next to Bruce, his own cup in hand. “Understandable, Bruce. It wouldn’t be good for either of you if your status crept into the public eye just yet.”

“There are easily a thousand ways that could go wrong,” Bruce agreed. He’d had just enough time to mull it over in the days since the fundraiser, and he was sure that Jim would feel the same about keeping it private. It would paint a target on both of their backs, and the media would likely have a field day speculating about the nature of their relationship.

“If you don’t mind me asking,” Alfred said, considering Bruce over his cup, “do you know what you’re going to say during this conversation?”

Bruce blinked at him. “What do you mean? We’re going to talk about the whole soulmate situation.”

Alfred smiled at him with the kind of look that a patient teacher might give a particularly stubborn child. “Allow me to clarify: do you know what you want out of your bond with Jim?”

That stunned Bruce into silence, and Alfred took a sip of his tea, managing to do it in a quietly smug way. 

The truth was, Bruce had thought about it.

He and Jim were close when he was Batman. They had worked together for some time, and they were good friends. On some lonelier evenings, when Bruce was sat by himself in the manor, Jim had crossed his mind. Sometimes it was with the image of sitting to have a drink together, and sometimes it was something more. Bruce’s heart fluttered around Jim in a way he’d never quite felt before, even in the few steady relationships he’d had over the years. 

Jim was different. He  _ got _ Bruce - or, well, Batman, he supposed - in a way that only Alfred came close to.

He hadn’t worded any of that, of course, not to anyone. Alfred probably already knew judging by the way he was watching him over the rim of his teacup, but neither of them had named it.

Bruce set his tea aside and went back to the files. “I’ll have to see what Jim wants,” he said evasively, turning a page to skim the notes Jim had made. 

Mercifully, Alfred didn’t press him about his own desires. He simply hummed thoughtfully as he leaned in to read alongside Bruce, and the conversation moved swiftly on. Losing himself in the details of the case was comfortably familiar, and most of all, it was reassuring when things had taken such a dramatic shift in the last week. Before long, Bruce had started scanning the information into the Batcomputer while Alfred gathered up their empty cups, and it was almost easy to forget about his little problem.

But he liked Jim very much. He already knew that. 

Bruce just didn’t know if Jim felt the same. Even if he did, it certainly wouldn’t be for Bruce Wayne the billionaire. No, the more likely target was the mysterious Batman, a man who Jim likely  _ wouldn’t _ make a move with considering his hidden identity.

As soon as Alfred had headed up the elevator, Bruce rested his head back against his chair and closed his eyes. The progress bar ticked on across the screen, unwatched now, as Bruce finally let himself wallow.

* * *

“Got a letter for you, Commissioner.”

An envelope landed on his desk with a  _ thwap. _ In the doorway of his office, Renee - because of course it was Renee, she always just let herself in whenever she pleased - grinned at him before continuing on her way. Jim frowned as the door closed behind her, staring down at the offending letter now covering his paperwork.

There, on the front in neat handwriting, was  _ FAO Commissioner James Gordon. _ It was made of nice, thick paper, the kind that only fancy offices really used, and as Jim tucked his thumbnail under the seal to open it up, he figured he already knew who it was from.

Sure enough, there was a letter inside addressed to him. It was an invitation to Wayne’s office for a discussion regarding their ‘situation’, as he put it. 

Jim couldn’t exactly say no. It made sense, and he couldn’t help but be a little curious about Wayne.

He stopped by a little sandwich place on his way. He had no idea what Wayne could possibly want, so he just got two of the same with drinks to match. It was, in essence, a peace offering; at the end of the day, Wayne was his soulmate, and despite the fact that they were from two very different worlds, the universe had linked them together for a reason. Jim just wanted to figure out that reason and see why they were supposed to fit.

When Jim offered the receptionist his name, she waved him ahead and gave him directions to Wayne’s office without batting an eyelid. The door was surprisingly modest, even with the plaque bearing its owner’s name splayed across the top.

Jim raised his fist and knocked.

“Come in.”

Wayne sat at a desk opposite the door, and a smile spread across his face when he saw Jim. “You got my message.”

“I did,” Jim confirmed, closing the door behind himself, “and I figured I’d bring lunch.”

The office had no business being that big, Jim thought, crossing the room. It was probably the size of both his kitchen and his living room combined. For all of that space, though, there wasn’t much in it aside from a little lounge in the corner, a chess set to the left, and a few fully stocked bookcases - and Wayne’s desk itself, of course. He wasn’t sure what he had expected - maybe some display of wealth and power, even though that just really didn’t seem to be Wayne at all - but it wasn’t quite framed photos on his desk.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Wayne said through his smile. “Come sit down.”

“No, I didn’t have to, but I wanted to.” Jim took the seat on the other side of Wayne’s desk, and then slid the bag containing his lunch towards him. “I didn’t know if you’d had the chance to get anything, Mr. Wayne, so I grabbed it on my way.”

Wayne seemed pleased when he unwrapped his sandwich, so Jim settled back in his chair with his own, satisfied. “Thank you,” Wayne said, smiling at him, “but I think we’re a little past being formal, Jim. You can call me Bruce.” There was a touch of amusement to his features, seated in the way his eyes crinkled just a little at the corners, and Jim felt an odd flutter in his chest that he wasn’t going to address.

“Then you’re welcome, Bruce.” His name felt weird in his mouth at first, but Jim was sure that he’d get used to it eventually. “Busy day?”

Bruce considered him as he chewed, seeming somewhat surprised by the relatively normal question. Once he’d swallowed, he said, “Yeah. I actually only just got back from a surprise meeting before you showed up.” Sheepishly, he added, “I didn’t know if you were coming, but I didn’t want to miss it.”

It was oddly sweet. Jim hadn’t really expected that level of consideration from him. 

“What about you?” Bruce asked, reaching for his drink. “Anything fun happening at the GCPD?”

“Nah. The most fun I get is whenever it’s serious enough to get Batman involved.” Jim shrugged. “My days are usually paperwork or heading out when something’s bad.” 

Those moments with Batman changed the game entirely. It was odd, because he didn’t always just show up for the serious cases now; there were also the ones where he dropped off a few random thugs that he stopped on his usual patrols, and he always used those opportunities to stop and talk to Jim for a minute. Sometimes it was solely about the criminals he had in cuffs, but sometimes it was bizarrely normal chatter. 

Bruce nodded, as if it wasn’t a surprise to him. “You’ve done an amazing job at transforming the city, though,” he said. “There’s a lot you can do from behind a desk.”

“And even more you can do away from it,” Jim replied. “Besides, Batman’s the one who did most of that work.”

Bruce set his chin against his fist as he smiled at Jim. “You’ve got a lot of good things to say about Batman.”

“Of course I do. Who doesn’t?”

“Well,” Bruce said, grinning, “the criminals, I imagine.”

Jim barked out an unexpected laugh. “You’re not wrong there,” he chuckled once he’d regained control. Bruce’s eyes were sparkling with mirth, and Jim felt that strange fond sensation in his chest again. “You got me.”

They drifted into companionable silence for a moment as they each took a bite of their lunch. Jim smiled around his mouthful, still amused. 

He waited until that had faded before speaking again. He took a quick gulp of water, and as he set the bottle down again, he cleared his throat. “So. The soulmate thing.”

A little frown appeared between Bruce’s brows. “The soulmate thing,” he repeated, nodding slowly. He tucked the pieces of rubbish from his lunch back into the plastic bag Jim had brought it in, and idly swiped some crumbs off of his desk. “Sorry, I know it’s probably weird to do it here. I just thought privacy would be best.”

“No, it’s fine.” Jim polished off his sandwich, quickly working his way through the last of it without really tasting it. He had no idea why his pulse had spiked - he didn’t  _ feel _ nervous, not exactly. He couldn’t put his finger on it. “Privacy works fine for me. I wasn’t looking forward to the public getting their hands on this anyway.”

Bruce’s shoulders sagged a little. “I’m glad we’re on the same page,” he said, and it looked like he really, truly, meant it. “So… do you know where you’d like for this to go?”

The thing was, Jim had eyes. He wasn’t blind. He was well aware of the fact that Bruce was handsome; he’d known it before, and he knew it even more intimately now that he’d thought about the man for a week and sat across from him for lunch. There was a warmth to Bruce that he hadn’t expected, a casual friendliness that made it easy to relax and smile around him. 

Jim also wasn’t straight.

Bruce very publicly wasn’t either. 

They were both single, but Bruce was also ten years younger than him. He was due to turn forty, and Jim was closer to fifty. It had been on Jim’s mind before he’d arrived at Wayne Tower, but now it didn’t seem quite as important. 

There was potential, though. He knew that. Soulmate marks never explained what way a relationship could go, only that the people involved were meant to be linked somehow. It could be romantic, platonic, familial - anything. Jim’s relationship with Debbie was proof enough of that, given that theirs had come about while they were dating and shifted to a more friendly bond over time.

“I don’t know,” Jim admitted. “We don’t really know each other yet, Bruce. I think we should just… see how it goes, you know?”

Bruce nodded, accepting his answer without question. “Makes sense,” he agreed. “In that case… would you like to start by doing more of this? We can have lunch here, get to know each other a little better.”

Well, it was much better than taking lunch in his own office, tucked away from the world. “Sounds like a plan. I can bring food on my way over.”

“And have you pay for it every time?” Bruce waved him off, shaking his head. “Don’t worry about it, I’ll get it. All you need to do is let me know what you like and bring yourself.”

Jim couldn’t really argue with that, given that one of them was a billionaire and the other was a cop on Gotham’s already tight budget. 

The arrangement was as simple as that. Bruce was always in Wayne Tower from Mondays through to Fridays, and all Jim had to do was text him to let him know he was coming. He had  _ Bruce Wayne’s _ number now. It was almost tempting to start up a conversation with him almost immediately, but Jim didn’t feel quite that brave just yet.

Still. He had his billionaire soulmate’s number right there in his contacts, and that was a nice enough confidence boost.


	2. Chapter 2

Lunch with Jim became the perfect way to break up Bruce’s day. It was a pleasant habit he hadn’t expected at all, and while he didn’t learn a great deal about Jim that he didn’t already know, it was still a bright spot in his otherwise monotonous day to look forwards to.

It was  _ wonderful _ to speak to Jim as himself, though.

He was able to tell him so much more about himself than he could as Batman. Their conversation never went too deep, but it did naturally progress past the surface level of their jobs. The other people in their lives came up here and there, and that was how he learned about Jim’s ex-wife naturally, while he told Jim about the depth of Alfred’s role in his life growing up. More often than not, their conversations ended up in laughter until Jim’s cheeks were pink, and Bruce knew that he was probably in trouble.

Before he knew it, two weeks had passed, and he’d invited Jim over to the manor for dinner and a drink.

The evening found them sitting out in the garden of Wayne Manor, comfortably relaxed in a couple of chairs on the patio. Alfred had politely given them some space after their meal, leaving just the two of them to nurse their drinks in the waning Gotham light. 

It was nice. Bruce closed his eyes to soak in some of the sun, and he felt a bit like a cat with his full belly as he enjoyed the warmth.

“I could get used to this,” Jim murmured.

Bruce opened his eyes, hoping that any sleepiness wasn’t too obvious. “Used to what?” he asked, smiling just at the sound of Jim’s chuckle.

“This.” Jim waved a hand around at the view of the manor gardens. They were immaculately kept - the gardeners always did a wonderful job of tending the flowers and the hedges - and they made quite the beautiful view in the sunset. “Gorgeous views, good company, great drinks… you’re spoiling me, Bruce.”

“Who else would I spoil?” Bruce turned to face him, and his breath caught in his throat at the sight of a thoroughly relaxed Jim. There seemed to be a permanent smile at the corners of his mouth, one that didn’t go away even after he took a sip of his beer, and he slouched a little in his chair just enough to cross his legs at the ankles. He seemed so soft in the gentle light, a far cry from the usually tough, gruff commissioner. 

“I don’t know.” Jim shrugged a shoulder lazily. His head tilted to one side as he thought. “Alfred?”

Bruce hummed a quiet laugh. “We do this all the time already. Reading in the sun is one of his favourite things.”

Jim squinted up at the sky. “When we actually get any sun, I guess.” He sighed, dropping his gaze back down to Earth once more. “Think he’s onto something there, though.”

Privately, Bruce thought the same. He’d joined Alfred on more than one occasion, but now the thought of  _ Jim _ settling in with them more regularly had set in, too. They hadn’t arranged for Jim to stay over at the manor tonight - even that seemed too quick, despite there being plenty of spare rooms for him - but Bruce sort of wished he’d asked now.

He’d had feelings for Jim for a little while, but he wasn’t sure what to do with this new surge of fondness. All he knew was that he wanted to be the one to make Jim smile every day.

* * *

Jim was, quite simply, fucked.

He hadn’t expected to be. Sure, he’d entertained the idea of him and Bruce together after their little chat, but he’d meant it when he’d said he wanted to establish some kind of friendship first. 

He just hadn’t anticipated them getting on like a house on fire.

They clicked in a way that made sense - which, Jim supposed, was kind of the point of being soulmates. Everything with Bruce felt so easy, so familiar in a way that he could never quite place, though he’d ended up putting it down to their bond. Friends had always talked about how things tended to just feel that way with soulmates, and Jim had admittedly felt it himself too with Debbie. Their friendship was uncomplicated, just like what he had now with Bruce.

The thing was, Jim wasn’t entirely sure how to make that step. Hell, he didn’t even know if Bruce was on the same wavelength. He knew that they should have been able to talk about it, but it was oddly  _ embarrassing. _

How  _ should _ he actually ask out his billionaire soulmate on a date? 

Jim didn’t even know where to take him or what to do. Judging by the media, Bruce had already been pretty much everywhere for a meal, either with or without a date. He could cook, but nothing would ever compare to Alfred’s dinners. Going out to a bar definitely wasn’t Bruce’s scene.

In the end, there only seemed to be one option to figure it out, and it meant thoroughly humiliating himself in the process.

When he was next at the manor for an evening - he’d lost count now; he’d visited so many times in the past couple of weeks alone that they blended together in a pleasant haze of memories - he waited until Bruce excused himself to go to the bathroom after their meal. As soon as he was out of the room, Jim reached for the stack of plates to help Alfred clean up.

“Oh, that’s not necessary, Jim,” Alfred assured him, smiling politely. “I’ll clean up.”

“You cooked, I’m just giving you a hand.” Jim kept hold of them and backed into the kitchen, triumphant when Alfred followed with their empty wineglasses in hand. He took his place at the sink, rolled up his sleeves, and went to work rinsing them all off. 

Perfect. Things were going just as planned.

“Hey, Alfred.”

“Yes, Jim?”

He kept his gaze firmly fixed on the plates, watching as the last traces of gravy from their roast was washed away. “I want to do something nice for Bruce,” he said. “Something to impress him.”

There was a pause. Jim could feel the weight of Alfred’s gaze as he took apart his words to carefully analyse them, and then he could feel the silent  _ click _ as Alfred put them all back together again. “Something to impress him,” Alfred repeated. “Am I to assume that this gesture is… for a specific purpose, shall we say?”

Jim’s cheeks burned. He reached for the sponge to scrub at a stubborn spot. “Maybe.”

Alfred hummed, but Jim didn’t know him well enough at all to decipher what it meant. Rather than reply right away, Alfred simply moved around the kitchen to put away the last of the leftovers; Jim heard the familiar, sturdy thud of the stupidly big refrigerator at the other end of the kitchen, and he wondered if he might be allowed to take some of them home. Alfred had pushed some on him every other time, so he didn’t see why this would be any different.

“I’ve always found that a nice dinner and good company are what Bruce appreciates the most,” Alfred said eventually. 

“You’re a much better chef,” Jim chuckled, glancing over at him. Alfred seemed relaxed, though Jim had never noticed that he really lounged. He just settled, coming to rest like a car at a stoplight. “I don’t think I could make anything close to what Bruce is used to.”

Alfred smiled at him, warm and patient. “I’ve just had many years to focus on it, Jim. I’m certain that Bruce would enjoy anything you cooked - although, if you’d like my advice on a choice of dish, I’d keep it to something  _ you _ would like.”

Jim laughed. “So no lobster thermidor then?”

He was pleased when Alfred chuckled quietly. “No, not if you wouldn’t usually make it for yourself.”

“Can’t say I’ve ever cooked lobster,” Jim admitted. Figuring out something good that he  _ had _ cooked would be easy enough. He was sure that he could find something from that menu that Bruce would like.

The door clicked open behind them, and Bruce peeked inside. Jim turned just in time to catch the moment Bruce’s gaze landed on him, and he got to see that same smile he always did whenever they first laid eyes on each other. Jim now knew what to call the feeling that bubbled up in his chest, but the strength of it was still just as startling. 

“There you are. I wondered where you’d gone.”

Jim nodded towards Alfred. “I figured I’d help Alfred out. Didn’t seem fair to let him do all the work.”

“It  _ is _ my job, Jim,” Alfred said. His face carried no hint of what they’d just discussed. Jim silently thanked him, and he desperately hoped that Alfred knew just how grateful he was. “I’ve always found it to be therapeutic after cooking a good meal.”

“Then I’ll leave you to it.” Jim stepped away from the sink as he placed the third plate on top of the pile. He paused to dry his hands on a dish towel hanging nearby, and as he pulled his sleeves down again, he briefly thumbed over the  _ BW _ on his wrist, just like he always did now. It had become a habit completely by accident. 

Alfred nodded as he stepped into Jim’s place and began the process of filling up the dishwasher. “Are you two retiring to the gardens? It’s rather nice outside this evening.”

Bruce peered out of the kitchen windows, humming thoughtfully. “It is. Jim?”

It was, Jim realised, an opportunity. 

Tonight, Bruce accompanied him with two glasses of nice, cold water. Jim was silently appreciative of it; the wine with dinner had been nice, but he still had to make his way home after, and he wanted plenty of time to make sure he was more than sober when he did.

That, and it would make talking to Bruce easier knowing that he was doing so in sound mind.

Bruce sighed as he sunk into his usual seat. He smiled up at the clear sky. It matched his eyes, Jim thought; they were just as bright, and such a beautiful blue.

Jim took the chair next to Bruce’s, and he paused to take a quick gulp of water to steady his nerves. He carefully set it down on the table in front of them as he chose his words.

“Hey, Bruce.”

“Mm?” Bruce turned to him with that sweet, sweet smile, and Jim felt himself crumble. “What is it?”

Jim idly tapped his fingers against his glass. Condensation dampened his fingertips and left prints behind, only to be interrupted as another droplet ran straight through. “I was wondering if you’d like to come to mine for dinner.” He looked up, forcing himself to meet Bruce’s eyes. “I’ll cook.”

“You don’t have to,” Bruce said. “If it’s a case of privacy-”

“No, Bruce.” Jim smiled despite himself, amused with Bruce missing the point completely. To be fair to him, they  _ had _ agreed upon taking things steadily and seeing how their relationship developed, so maybe he was just deliberately dodging the obvious. “It’s not about privacy. I was just thinking it might be polite to have a first date  _ not _ right in front of your father figure.”

Bruce’s mouth snapped shut. His eyebrows lifted in silent surprise, and if it hadn’t been for the delicate flush of his cheeks, Jim would have wondered if he’d overstepped.

There was always the chance that he still had. That would make things awkward.

And then Bruce smiled again, brighter than before. “Then I’d love to have dinner at your place, Jim.”

That feeling he’d been holding back crashed over him then, leaving his heart fluttering in his chest. Jim breathed out a quiet laugh of relief as he reached up to rub at his temple. “Well, I’m glad that went well. Had me scared for a second there, you know.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to. I just… wasn’t expecting it.” Bruce visibly hesitated, and then reached over to rest his hand on Jim’s forearm where it rested on the chair. “I’m glad I wasn’t the only one thinking about it, though.”

“I didn’t think I’d have the guts to ask you tonight, so don’t worry, I surprised us both.”

Jim turned his hand over, and Bruce’s naturally slipped down to brush against his own. Something as simple as holding hands was so thrilling when physical contact was so rare. Most of the time, it was polite not to touch simply to avoid accidentally triggering any sort of soulmate bond. Jim had been less careful after he’d had his first set of initials, as long as the other was willing to shake hands, but he hadn’t even dated since the divorce several years ago.

Bruce’s fingers curled between his. The press of their palms sent tingles up his spine. It was a bizarre mix of both familiar and new.

* * *

Batman dropped onto the GCPD roof with a flutter of his cape. It billowed out around him with the breeze, just a touch dramatic. It still amused Bruce to no end when it worked out that way.

Jim was waiting for him already, wrapped up in his coat. It was, admittedly, a chilly night, enough that even Bruce felt it through the Batsuit when he stopped moving around so much. A cigarette burned between Jim’s fingers, but he dropped it as Bruce approached, stomping it out under his boot.

“Nice to see you, Batman,” Jim called. His breath puffed out in the air ahead of him, forming a cloud that quickly dissipated.

“Good evening, Commissioner,” Bruce replied. His voice came out as a low growl thanks to the modulator, though for the first time Bruce almost wished it didn’t. He wasn’t sure yet how to tell Jim about this, especially with the new step in their relationship, and he didn’t know when he planned on figuring it out.

That was a problem for him a little later down the line, he decided.

“Hope you’re doing well,” Jim continued. He tucked his hands into his pockets and hunched deeper into his coat. “Christ, it’s cold tonight. Hope your suit’s got heating.”

Bruce couldn’t help his quiet laugh. “It doesn’t, but I’m warm enough, don’t worry.”

“Good.” Jim huffed. “I swear, it doesn’t matter what season it is, the nights are still fucking bitter in Gotham. Anything to report from the way over?”

“Nothing. It seems like the cold is keeping people inside tonight. That, or I just flew over the wrong parts.”

“If only that worked the rest of the time,” Jim grumbled. “I’d be a billionaire if that actually kept crime down.”

Bruce bit back a tease just in time - Jim was, for all intents and purposes, basically a billionaire now anyway with their connection. That wasn’t the Batman thing to do, though, not even with their existing friendship. 

“I can scout,” Bruce offered. He ignored the desire to take Jim into his arms in an attempt to warm him up. Even as himself, the most they had done was hold hands anyway, and it wasn’t like the Batsuit would be much help. The armour would be chill to the touch. “I’m sure there’s something or someone out there.”

“Probably,” Jim agreed. “That would help, actually. Don’t make yourself keep going if there’s nothing special, though, we can handle it for one night if the big guys are staying in.” 

“I know.” Bruce inclined his head, smiling. “You’re all more than capable without me.”

Jim snorted. “Tell that to the reporters, Batman.”

Bruce cocked his head. “Maybe I will.”

It was enough to make Jim laugh, and Bruce felt a familiar buzz in his chest at the sound. “I’d like to see that. I don’t think they’d make it through a whole interview with you staring down at ‘em.”

“I can be less intimidating,” Bruce replied, but it just set Jim off in another fit of giggles, and Bruce had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep himself from dissolving with him.

“Oh, God,” Jim chuckled a moment later, wiping at one of his eyes. “How are things with that new soulmate of yours anyway, Batman? You worked things out with him?”

And here it was, the inevitable chitchat that Bruce loved but now found much more complicated. It was all very well pining over Jim from afar when he was under the cowl, but it was difficult to dodge these questions quite right when Batman’s soulmate was, in fact, the only other one on that very roof. 

“It’s going well,” he said carefully, “though he still doesn’t know about all of this.”

Jim smiled knowingly. “Yeah, I figured. I don’t envy you there. As far as I know, there’s no big secrets between me and Bruce, so I can’t give you any advice there.”

Bruce was very, very glad that the cowl covered most of his face. It meant that Jim hopefully couldn’t see the way that those words just dropped a heavy lump of dread right into his stomach, or the way that he had to swallow down a shocked bubble of laughter. 

“I’m sure I’ll work it out,” he said, praying he didn’t sound too robotic. It was hard to put any inflection in it when, internally, he was wrestling with the truth. “Good luck with yours, too, Jim.”

The way Jim’s face lit up at that alone was worth lingering for the well wishes. “Thanks. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m gonna head back down and get a coffee to warm up. I don’t think I can take standing out here any longer. Night, Batman.”

“Goodnight. I’ll call if anything comes up.” 

He waited by the Batsignal as Jim retreated to the little door leading up to the rooftop. Once Jim was through it, Bruce switched it off, plunging him back into the shadows. There, it was much easier to ignore the complicated mess he’d gotten himself into, and as he grappelled away into the night, Bruce shifted his focus instead to watching out for Gotham. If he thought about that hard enough, maybe a solution would present itself to him on its own.

* * *

Jim had considered going the full mile and picking Bruce up from the manor for their first date, but in the end, he’d asked Bruce to make his own way over so he could focus on cooking. He was determined to get it right, just to make sure he started this off on the right foot. He could only hope that Alfred’s advice was correct.

Bruce let himself in when he arrived, just like Jim had requested. He heard him back in the hallway, and then he called out, “Hi, Jim.”

“Evening, Bruce. Come on in.”

Footsteps tapped down the hallway, and when Jim turned, Bruce was in the doorway. There was something indescribably gentle on his face, and Jim felt himself soften in return. He ached to go over and touch him, hungry for that contact now that he had someone to share it with again, but he stayed put. 

“How was your day?” he asked, turning back to the oven. He tugged on his gloves - a flowery blue set that were a relic from years ago - and crouched down to pull the casserole dish out.

“The usual. Meetings, mostly.” He heard Bruce take a deep breath behind him. “What did you make? It smells good.”

Jim set the dish down on the counter with a solid clunk, beaming with pride. It looked perfect. It had been a while since he’d made this much effort on food - there wasn’t much point when he usually just cooked for himself - but he was glad to see that he hadn’t lost his touch. “Beef and vegetable casserole. Hope you’re hungry, I probably made too much. Maybe I can send you back with leftovers for Alfred this time.”

He caught a glimpse of Bruce as he turned to grab the plates he’d put aside. There was such a warm look on his face that it stopped Jim in his tracks for a moment. “What?”

“Nothing.” Bruce propped himself up against the doorframe, his smile widening. “I’m just enjoying this. Do you want me to help?”

“Absolutely not. I’m cooking for you, you go make yourself comfortable in the living room.” Jim chose to ignore the way his face burned at such an open display of affection. It really  _ had _ been some time if just that was enough to get him flustered. “I’ll bring the food through. Is water good?”

“Water’s perfect.” The hairs on the back of Jim’s neck rose when Bruce’s voice came from much closer. How had he moved across the room so damn quietly? The only other person he knew who could do that was Batman. Bruce squeezed his elbow gently, and then let go as he drifted away to the living room.

Jim shook off his shiver, glad for the moment to himself as he finished dishing up. 

When he joined Bruce on the couch, he sat close enough that their knees bumped together, greedily drinking up even the smallest bit of touch that he could. Bruce was already digging into his meal, humming appreciatively around his bite, and Jim waited for the verdict.

“Oh, this is amazing,” he sighed once he’d swallowed, and then he immediately went for another forkful.

A success, then. Jim grinned.

Much like they did at the manor, once they had eaten and cleared away the dishes, Jim offered Bruce a drink.

“I haven’t exactly got the nicest backyard to have it in, but we can still sit outside if you want,” he said. And then, somewhat sheepishly, he added, “I’ve also only got beer. No fancy wine or whiskey, sorry.”

“Beer’s fine.” Bruce stood, stretching, and then followed Jim back into the kitchen. “And you know I don’t mind what your backyard’s like. There doesn’t even have to be anywhere to sit.”

Jim did, in fact, have some old garden furniture, but it had been stored in the garage for a long time now, and he wasn’t sure it was in the best condition. They ended up standing just outside the backdoor, leaning back against the wall as they admired what they could see of the sunset over the Gotham skyline. The view from Bruce’s garden was much better, Jim thought idly.

He went home not long after that. Alfred came by in a subtle car to pick him up in the hope that nobody would recognise Bruce Wayne leaving the commissioner’s house.

Before Bruce stepped outside, though, Jim worked up the courage to take him by the hand again and kiss his cheek. “Thanks for coming,” he said, rocking back on his heels. “Hope my cooking wasn’t that bad.”

“Jim, it was fantastic.” Bruce raised the little tupperware of leftovers in his hand, giving it a shake. “You know, I might just hide these so I can have it instead. I love Alfred, but I could have easily eaten that whole dish.”

“Well, I’m glad you liked it. I’m gonna have to work hard to top it next time you come over, though.”

Bruce leaned in, brushing his lips against Jim’s cheek in return. “Whatever you make will be more than perfect,” he promised, pressing a second kiss a little closer to his lips before straightening up again. His smile turned playful, though, as he added, “But I  _ am _ looking forward to seeing how creative you can get.”

“Don’t expect anything fancy,” Jim warned. He couldn’t stop the giddy smile that seemed glued to his face just from those sweet little kisses. “I’m no good at fancy.”

“I don’t need you to be fancy.” Bruce squeezed his fingers where they were still intertwined with his own. “Never have.”

Jim lingered there for a moment, wrestling with himself and his wants, and then he closed the gap between them to kiss Bruce. 

The reply was instant. Bruce didn’t even hesitate to return it, breathing a soft, pleased sigh against Jim’s lips. The sound sent a little tingle down Jim’s spine, and, greedy, he let his other hand rest on Bruce’s side to simply hold him close. It had been long enough that he’d almost forgotten what kissing was like, but it was somehow so much better than he remembered. Maybe it was just the soulmate thing, but either way, it was  _ perfect. _

Bruce was grinning when they parted, and Jim couldn’t help mirroring it.

“If I get that as a goodbye, I’m definitely coming here more often,” he said, eyes sparkling. 

Jim laughed. “If that’s what it takes to convince you to come back, that’s fine by me.”

Bruce kissed him again, light and fleeting, and Jim found himself following when Bruce parted. “You’d have me coming back anyway,” Bruce murmured, taking a moment to rest their foreheads together. Something else seemed to go unspoken there, judging by the way Bruce’s lips parted only to close again after a beat, but Jim didn’t press him on it.

He almost asked him to stay, but even that would be too much right now. Jim didn’t have any guest bedrooms, and he didn’t want to make any assumptions. So, reluctantly, he released his hold on Bruce with one last peck, and he lingered in the doorway as Bruce ducked his head and made his way down to Alfred’s car where it idled at the end of Jim’s driveway.

Before they pulled away, Bruce waved to him through the window, and Jim raised his hand in return. He could just about pick out  _ JG _ on Bruce’s wrist where his sleeve had slipped down.

As the car vanished around the corner, Jim dropped his hand to his own set of initials. He brushed his thumb across the spot where he knew  _ BW _ to be, and a smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

* * *

“Alfred, I need help.”

Bruce sunk down in the passenger seat as Alfred drove them home. Wayne Manor wasn’t terribly far, but it would still be a little bit of time before they made it home. What better time to air the problem that had been on his mind?

“What’s wrong, Bruce?” Alfred asked. He glanced over at him at a stoplight, an eyebrow arched. “Did it go poorly?”

“No, it was wonderful, and that’s the problem.” Bruce sighed, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. “I need to tell him I’m Batman. It’s not fair to keep it secret, not when I spend the day with him and then meet him for work at night.”

Alfred hummed. “It is a bit of a predicament,” he agreed. “You could, of course, simply sit down and tell him. It would probably be best if you didn’t keep the secret going for too long.”

“I know.” Bruce closed his eyes as his hand dropped back to his side. “I don’t know  _ how _ to tell him, though. Sitting down to tell him is easier said than done.” What words was he supposed to use? Bruce hadn’t exactly told anyone he was Batman before, not anyone as important as Jim. The closest person was Alfred, and he’d helped Bruce  _ create _ Batman. It wasn’t a fair comparison.

The thought plagued him still as they made it home. Alfred retired shortly after they arrived, though not before gratefully tucking Jim’s leftovers into the refrigerator for tomorrow. Bruce promised to pass on his thanks, and then bid Alfred goodnight.

Bruce didn’t feel tired, though. He was entirely too wide awake after the date, despite the fact that this was a rare night that he’d already set aside for himself. If the GCPD needed Batman, they would call. It was still tempting to go out just to shake off his restlessness, but Bruce forced himself down into his armchair in their more commonly used living room, content to simply think. 

Alfred was right. Talking to Jim would be the best way. Maybe he could invite Jim to the manor so he could show him the Batcave as proof. 

He buried his face in his hands with a sigh. 

His lips still tingled from their goodbye kiss. It had been unexpected for their first date but Bruce wouldn’t have changed a thing about it. Hell, he’d desperately wanted to stay longer, and he would have asked to if Alfred hadn’t already been waiting outside for him.

The next time Jim came over, Bruce decided, he was going to tell him. He’d do exactly as Alfred had suggested: sit him down, tell him outright, and then if he didn’t believe him, he’d show Jim some kind of evidence. If that meant taking him down into the Batcave, so be it. If there was one other person on this planet that he trusted with his secret identity, it was Jim Gordon.

With his plan laid out, Bruce forced himself up the stairs to head to bed. He’d fill out the details in the morning, and then he’d ask Jim at the first opportunity he had.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is technically the last chapter - the next post (last one for this fic!) next weekend is an epilogue!

Kissing Bruce was still just as good as the first time, even a few weeks into the romantic side of their relationship. This kiss was one of many now - Jim had long since lost count - but it still made him smile every time when he pulled away. 

Today was no different. It was a goodbye kiss, a gentle peck before he left Bruce’s office to head back to work, but it still left Jim beaming. He couldn’t help leaning in again just to brush his lips against Bruce’s cheek, and then he straightened up again. Bruce stayed put in his chair, a sweet smile on his face as he looked up at him.

“Have a good afternoon,” Jim said, squeezing his shoulder fondly. 

“You, too.” Bruce reached up, tangling their fingers together. A little fizzle ran along Jim’s nerves; he still wasn’t tired of physical touch, and he didn’t think he ever would be. “Hey, do you want to come over for dinner tonight?”

“I can’t,” Jim sighed. “I’m working the late shift. I figured I’d cover for someone who called in sick, save someone else from doing it.” It just made things easier if he took it upon himself to occasionally help out. That, and the GCPD seemed to appreciate a commissioner who wasn’t afraid to get back out on the streets at any time. 

Bruce nodded, though his brows were furrowed. “Tomorrow then?”

“Tomorrow works.” Jim wiggled his fingers idly between Bruce’s, enjoying the way they fit together. He smiled when Bruce wiggled back. “I’ll just be patrolling. You can text, I’ll probably reply. Don’t wait up for me, though.”

He stepped back as Bruce stood, only to crowd up close to Jim so he could peck his lips again. Bruce’s fingers untangled from his own, drifting higher to brush over the initials on Jim’s wrist. “Stay safe,” he murmured, bumping his nose against Jim’s fondly. “You can always come by the manor when you’re done, you know.”

Jim stole one last kiss. “I’m not gonna wake you up in the early hours,” he said, raising an eyebrow at Bruce as he pulled away. He grabbed the bag containing their lunch trash, looping the tied handle over his wrist. “I know you have to get up early, Bruce. I’m gonna let you sleep.”

“Mm, fine.” Bruce sunk back down into his chair with a defeated sigh, but he was still smiling, warm. “I’ll see you tomorrow for dinner, then.”

“See you tomorrow.” 

As Jim headed for the door, he heard the telltale sound of tapping at a keyboard as Bruce got back to work. He really, truly didn’t want to go, not when he knew the mountain of paperwork that awaited him back at the GCPD, but the quicker he finished it, the sooner he could support on the streets instead. It was worth it for that alone. He cast one last look back before he closed the office door, and when he raised his hand to wave, Bruce did the same in return.

It was going to be a long, long night.

Jim half considered putting up the Batsignal to see if Batman was around - he already knew it was a yes; it was rare that Batman was never around, and even then they had ways of contacting him if it was urgent - but in the end, he simply didn’t have time for a chat. 

It was a shame, really. He liked spending time with Batman, and he couldn’t help being curious about the mysterious hero’s soulmate. He wondered if that person knew about Batman yet, or how they’d react when he did finally explain. Jim thought it would be an honour, but he knew that not everyone else would see it that way. They’d focus on the danger, the risk to Batman’s life, not the fact that he was helping the city and was a better man than most. Jim understood the necessity in Batman’s role, the need for someone to protect those who couldn’t protect themselves. It was, after all, part of why Jim had become a cop in the first place.

People could understand that motivation, but not everyone could live with it. Jim knew that. Old friends had told him the typical _‘I don’t know how you do it’_ on many, many occasions. They’d say the same to Batman.

Jim knew how he did it, though. It was for the good of the city, and that was something he just _got_ without Batman ever explaining himself.

* * *

The Batsignal stayed dark. 

Bruce had expected as much with Jim outside of the GCPD building tonight. Others had lit it before on the occasion that Batman was needed while the commissioner was unavailable, but Jim was the one to use it the most. If Bruce squinted, he could pick out the shape of it on the GCPD rooftop from his perch, the outline of it barely visible in the ever present glow of a city at nighttime. There was no familiar silhouette to match, though, and no cigarette smoke curling into the air.

Turning away, Bruce pulled his grapple gun from his belt, and he zoomed off into the night.

The patrol was just as quiet as Gotham had been for the past couple of weeks. At first it was a pleasant surprise, but by now it was odd and uncomfortable. There was the occasional opportunistic robbery, of course, which was easy enough for Bruce to drop in on, but there wasn’t anything _big._

It was strange. Too strange. 

He didn’t like it.

Police chatter came in quietly over the cowl periodically, but nothing seemed significant so far. Bruce paused on a rooftop to listen, his head cocked as he scanned the streets below.

Nothing.

And then there was a hiss over the radio.

_“Riddler thugs sighted at the docks. They’re moving equipment, all armed-”_

_“How many units there already?”_

_“Just this patrol unit, Commissioner.”_

_“In that case, I want all available units in the area at the docks. I won’t be far behind.”_

_“Do you want us to contact Batman, sir?”_

_“He’ll show up if he’s around.”_

Bruce smiled. Jim knew him best.

He was at the docks within minutes. He dropped down next to the police car hidden around the corner, out of sight of the Riddler group. The officer turned at the rustle of his cape, her surprise fading as she realised who it was.

“Thank God you’re here,” she sighed. “How did you know?”

“I heard,” he replied cryptically. “What’s the situation?”

She filled him in as other GCPD cars arrived. So far, the Riddler thugs hadn’t done anything aside from move their equipment from a warehouse into their vans. There were far, far more people lingering around than what seemed strictly necessary for such a job, though, and as it often was with the more villainous criminals in Gotham, prevention was always better; if they stopped them now, it would keep Riddler quiet for a little longer.

“I’ll survey the area,” Bruce said. He unhooked his grapple from his belt again, aiming for the rooftop. “If you hear commotion, you may have to come in.”

He didn’t wait for an answer. Bruce reached for the roof’s edge as it swiftly approached, and then dropped into a crouch as he looked down.

It was as exactly as the officer had described: a large open space with a couple of vans, and a warehouse door was wide open as people trooped back and forth, while others stood here and there with weapons. Not many firearms, though, thankfully. Bruce was never a fan of dealing with guns.

He started with the lone guard at the gate. It was easy enough to drop down behind him, and before the guy knew what was happening, he was cuffed and silenced. Bruce left him by the wall; an officer would find him soon enough. 

Then it was just a matter of making an opening for the GCPD. There was a great metal shutter down over the road entrance, and Bruce knew that there was no point in trying to open it. It would make far too much noise. Instead, he tugged open the side door that led behind the shutter, keeping it ajar with a brick. The guard glared at him, growling wordlessly behind his gag, and Bruce simply ignored him. 

Once he was back up on the roof, he took another look around, this time at his eye level.

There weren’t many lookouts on the rooftops. Bruce spotted two in total: one far on his left, closer to the water than the vans, and the other was on a little tower on his right.

He decided to go with the second option.

Bruce grappled his way up onto the circular top of the tower, and there he crouched for a moment, just to observe the guard underneath him. The guy leaned on the railings of the balcony, bored. He had no weapons, aside from a gun at his hip that he wouldn’t reach in time.

Just like before, Bruce came down behind him, and the man was bound within seconds.

And then there was a thunk, and splitting pain in his shoulder; the Batsuit could protect him from a lot, but the armour could only do so much in the end. Bruce staggered into the railings, knocking his hip against it as he grasped at his injured shoulder with a hiss. He turned, and there was a thug he hadn’t seen, wielding a bright green baseball bat. 

Before Bruce could react, the thug was rushing him again. 

The baseball bat was at his throat, bending him back over the railings. Bruce growled and fit his one good hand between his neck and the bat, pressing hard, but the thug was determined. All it took was one last shove to send Bruce tumbling over the side.

Things seemed to move in slow motion for just a moment, but Bruce still somehow didn’t have time to think.

His grapple gun was on his bad arm’s side. He fumbled at his belt, scrabbling with the lock, but missed with his non-dominant hand. Even if he released it now, there wouldn’t be time to aim and save himself. The padded armour would protect him from the worst of the fall, but there was still the little problem of taking a fall in the first place.

As the ground came up entirely too fast, Bruce’s only comfort was that he hadn’t been _too_ high up. 

* * *

_“Batman’s down, go, go, go!”_

Jim slapped at his radio. Cold dread dripped down his spine. “What’s happening? Talk to me.”

 _“Batman went down,”_ Montoya replied. Jim heard the rush of footsteps in the background. _“We’re going in. I’m heading over to check on him.”_

His car’s brakes squealed as he stopped outside the gates. There, officers paid him no mind as they filtered through the gates, guns raised as they barked orders at the Riddler thugs. Jim grabbed his own pistol to hastily shove into the holster at his hip, and then pushed his way through the crowd of officers, glad for once of his title when they parted for him. 

“I’m coming,” Jim said, speaking into the radio at his chest now. “I’ll take care of him.”

 _“Pulse is steady,”_ Montoya reported. _“Turn right when you’re through the gate. He’s yours as soon as you’re here, Commissioner.”_

Jim rounded the corner, and there, slumped against the wall of the warehouse, was Batman. He could only see Montoya’s back as she straightened up at the sound of Jim’s footsteps. Batman’s head tilted, looking past Montoya to see Jim, and a little smile pulled at the corners of his lips.

“He seems okay,” Montoya said as she passed Jim. She glanced back at him, her mouth a thin, straight line. “He injured his shoulder, but otherwise he’s responding fine. He’s just a little stunned.”

“Idiot,” Jim huffed fondly. “Thanks, Montoya. Go help the others round up the rest of the guys, I’ll get Batman home safe.”

Montoya patted his shoulder before she left, spurring Jim over towards Batman. Only now did he notice that one of his gauntlets was on the gravel by his hip, and then it clicked: he’d removed it so Montoya could check his pulse. As Jim squatted down next to Batman, he scooped it up, raising an eyebrow. “Gotta be more careful, Batman. What happened?”

“Someone caught me by surprise,” he murmured. Jim could feel the weight of his gaze even through the pure white eye slits in his mask. “Pushed me off the roof.”

Jim couldn’t help his little snort. “How’d they manage that? You can’t tell me you’re getting rusty already.”

Batman shrugged his good shoulder. “I guess I was distracted.”

“What’ve you got to be distracted about?”

“Plenty,” Batman said, chuckling softly. 

Jim laughed along with him, just as quietly. “Well, at least you had backup.”

He looked down at the gauntlet in his hand, and figured he might as well slip it back into place for Batman. It was odd to see his bare hand sticking out from the sleeve of the Batsuit. It felt too vulnerable. Jim offered Batman the opening, and as he turned his hand to slide his fingers in, he saw it.

_JG._

Jim froze.

Bruce twisted his wrist to hide it, but the damage was done.

In retrospect, it made sense. There were little things that added up now, the dots connecting in his brain as he pieced together his previously separate memories of Batman and Bruce. There was familiarity in his laugh, the way he talked, his mannerisms. It was all much more muted as Batman, of course - Jim was sure that Bruce consciously toned himself down to make himself less recognisable - but if he squinted, it had always been there.

And really, when he thought about it, it didn’t change anything for him.

“Let’s get you out of here,” Jim said, sliding the gauntlet back into place. He found the clasps and locked them, covering up Bruce’s hand once more.

He stood, offering a hand to help him to his feet. Bruce took it, leaning a little on Jim as he stood; he grimaced, reaching up to his injured shoulder to give it a tentative roll. He hissed quietly between his teeth. When Jim frowned at him, Bruce waved him off with a quiet rumble of, “It’s fine, probably just bruised.”

He paused then, raising his head to glance at the bustle of activity at the centre of the yard. The Riddler group was in cuffs now, and it wouldn’t be long until they’d be back at the GCPD. It would be a busy night there, that was for sure.

Bruce reached up to press a button behind the jaw of his cowl, and when he spoke, it was with his normal, familiar voice. “Can we talk about… _that_ later?” he asked.

“Of course,” Jim said, frowning. “What, you thought I was gonna interrogate you out here? I wanna get you home safe first.” 

There was no reply as they slipped out through the front gate, now open. Jim led the way to his car, where he opened the passenger door for Bruce. 

He didn’t get in, though. Not yet.

“You’re not angry?” he asked, cautious. 

Jim rolled his eyes. “Of course I’m not angry. Right now, I just wanna take a look at your shoulder.” He tilted his head towards the car again. “Get in, Batman. Let’s get you home.”

Bruce paused for just a moment more, still hesitating, and Jim couldn’t say he blamed him. After all, that was a pretty big secret to have revealed accidentally. Odds were, he hadn’t expected it to come out like that, if at all. And anyway, given the nature of it, Jim wasn’t at all upset that Bruce had kept it to himself.

He understood Batman in a way not many others would.

Whatever it was that Bruce saw in his face satisfied him, and he sunk into the passenger seat. It was almost a comical sight to see bulky Batman squeeze into the cramped GCPD cruiser, but Jim held his tongue as he settled into the driver’s seat.

Calmer this time, he reached for the radio.

“Montoya, I’m off for the night. I’m getting Batman somewhere safe. Give me a call if you need anything.”

_“I think we’ll be okay here, Commissioner. Tell Batman I hope he’s doing okay.”_

“I’m fine,” Bruce said, smoothly transitioning back to his low Batman growl. “Thank you for checking on me.”

_“Anytime, Batman. Get some rest, we’ll see you soon. Goodnight, Commissioner.”_

“Night, Montoya.” Jim switched off the radio, and he cast a crooked grin over at Bruce. “Do I already know where we’re heading?”

And there, underneath the cowl, was the same smile he’d known for years. It was the one Bruce had given him in his office, at his dinner table, and on their dates, and it was exactly the same as Batman’s lingering amusement after Jim told a joke. The answer had been right in front of him the whole time, but Jim had never deliberately sought after it. He still stood by that decision.

Bruce nodded. His hand drifted over to squeeze Jim’s knee. “Home.”

Jim settled his hand over Bruce’s armoured one. “Home it is.”

* * *

“I’m sorry for not telling you.”

Bruce winced as he stretched a little further across the couch, resting back against Jim behind him. It was the most comfortable way to relax at the moment with his shoulder as bruised and achy as it was. 

Upon their arrival, Alfred had given Jim a questioning look when he stood next to Batman, and it had only smoothed away when Bruce had removed his cowl. Bruce had taken it upon himself to explain Jim’s discovery as Alfred inspected his shoulder. He had confirmed that it was just badly bruised, and he thought it unlikely that Bruce had any other injuries to be concerned about. He had simply gently ordered Bruce to rest, and then asked if Jim would be staying the night.

Jim had agreed.

Bruce had offered a spare bedroom, and Jim had declined.

It was what brought them there, to Bruce’s couch in his own little living area next to his bedroom. Alfred had given him something to dull the pain before sending them off, but even now he could still feel the distant throb of his shoulder.

Jim leaned down to kiss the top of his head. “You don’t have to be sorry. I get it.”

“I was going to tell you,” Bruce promised, craning his head back to look up at Jim. “I had planned to tonight, actually. It’s why I invited you over for dinner.”

As Jim chuckled, Bruce felt the soft puffs of breath against his hair. It made him smile, and he closed his eyes as he pillowed his cheek against Jim’s chest. “Well, it worked out anyway,” Jim pointed out. “You still told me.”

“Not quite the way I imagined it, though. There was significantly less physical pain involved.” 

Jim laughed again, and trailed his hand down Bruce’s arm to lace their fingers together. “You had me worried for a minute,” he admitted, rubbing his thumb against the side of Bruce’s hand. “What had you so distracted that you missed that guy?”

Bruce could only shrug his good shoulder. “No idea. I just missed him completely. Rookie mistake, really, I haven’t done anything like that since my first days as Batman.” He sighed, grimacing. “I don’t like resting up for an injury.”

“You’ll be back out there before you know it.” Jim’s chin came to rest on his head. “Just do me a favour right now and don’t get back out there before you’re ready. I’m actually allowed to worry about Batman now, so get used to _me_ telling _you_ to be safe once in a while.”

“You already do,” Bruce pointed out, squeezing Jim’s fingers.

They lapsed into silence, but Bruce couldn’t take it for very long. There was still too much buzzing around in his mind that had, so far, gone unsaid. Jim seemed bizarrely relaxed about his discovery. Bruce wasn’t entirely sure what he’d expected from him, but it wasn’t quite a snuggle on the couch immediately after.

He pushed himself upright, ignoring the ache in his shoulder to put himself face to face with Jim. “You’re okay with this, right? Me being Batman?”

“Of course I am.” Jim frowned. “Did I give the impression that I wasn’t okay with it?”

“No, I’m just…” Bruce trailed off with a quiet huff of laughter. His hand found Jim’s again, and he idly played with his fingers as he sat there, trying to find the right words. “I thought you’d have more to say about it. Questions, maybe. Or, you know, the obvious anger at me keeping it secret.”

“Bruce.” Jim raised his eyebrows, and Bruce went quiet again. “You’ve spent the last two months watching me go out into the city that you know better than anyone else. We worked _together_ in that time. We’ve _been_ working together for years.” Bruce couldn’t help a little smile at the reminder, and Jim mirrored it with one of his own, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “I’ve always understood why you do what you do. I never questioned it. I still don’t.

“So,” Jim continued, grinning now, “why the hell would I give a shit about you being Batman? The man who I came to think of as my best friend turned out to be my soulmate. Sounds like a win to me.”

“Okay, okay,” Bruce chuckled. He leaned in to give Jim a quick peck, and then lingered for a moment more when Jim followed it up with another. “Maybe that’s why the universe linked us together.”

It would make sense, Bruce realised. He and Jim had always had the same goal: a better, safer Gotham. Initially, they’d gone about that ideal in different ways, but over the years they’d come together to blend their styles to achieve their goal. It didn’t matter that it was a never ending battle, not when they’d accomplished plenty together. If anything, Bruce was surprised he hadn’t noticed the possibility sooner.

Then again, he’d never actively looked for his soulmate, not when he led a very particular life. Jim was, quite honestly, one of a handful of people on the entire planet who could accept him for what and who he was in his entirety.

“Could be,” Jim agreed, thumbing Bruce’s knuckles. “I never really thought about it. Honestly, I didn’t even think I’d have another soulmate, so colour me surprised when this happened.”

“Me, too.” Bruce hummed quietly, amused. “I’m glad for that accident, though. Tonight might have been very different if we had found our marks while I was armoured up.”

Jim huffed out a soft laugh as he shook his head. “Christ, don’t get me thinking about _that_ nightmare. I wouldn’t have known what to do with myself.”

They shared more private chuckles, entertaining themselves with the possibilities. It was easy to forget anything outside the manor tonight, and so comfortable to sink into their own little bubble. If anything, now that Bruce’s identity was out there, their relationship felt like a full extension of their friendship; any lingering, unintentional walls came crumbling down, and at long last, Bruce felt like he could truly be himself with Jim.

And, when he settled into bed next to Jim, it was simple. The darkness of his bedroom wrapped around him like a warm cocoon, and when Jim’s arm draped around his waist, it didn’t matter that it was their first time sharing a bed. It didn’t feel awkward.

Nothing with Jim ever did.

* * *

Waking up in Wayne Manor was a bizarre experience.

Jim quickly realised that Bruce’s window was at the perfect angle for some gentle morning sunlight. The bed was tucked out of the way, though, just enough that when he opened his eyes, he wasn’t immediately blinded. The world was blurry anyway beyond the boundaries of Bruce’s bed, so Jim rolled over to seek out a certain someone instead of peering out past the covers.

Bruce was already stirring as he reached him, a disgruntled groan rumbling up through his croaky throat. His features scrunched up as he clumsily reached for his impressively bruised shoulder. 

“Jesus,” Jim breathed, resting a hand carefully on Bruce’s upper arm, well away from the marks. “You okay?”

“Hurts,” Bruce muttered, “but it’ll be fine.” He cracked his eyes open, blinking a few times before he focused on Jim’s face. He watched as a sweet smile spread across Bruce’s lips. His heart fluttered. “Morning, Jim.”

“Morning.” 

Jim leaned down to give him a peck on the cheek. He could feel the gentle scrape of Bruce’s morning stubble against his own. It was a sensation he was already in love with.

Bruce stretched carefully, clearly avoiding aggravating his injury. “Sleep well?” he asked, sighing as he relaxed into the mattress again.

“In this bed? Amazing.” Jim snorted, ducking down to kiss his mouth now, quick and sweet. “You’ve ruined me for mine back home.”

“Mm, good.” A sly little grin tugged on Bruce’s mouth as he pulled Jim down by the collar of his borrowed t-shirt. “Means you’ll stay.”

They kissed again, a little longer this time, and Jim had to admit that Bruce had a very, very good point. Why would he want to be anywhere else? The bed was comfortable, his soulmate looked like a lazy, content cat, and he didn’t even have work. They had the whole day ahead of them, and if it ended up being spent entirely in bed, Jim certainly wasn’t about to complain.

Bruce’s stomach growled. They both paused.

“Breakfast?” Jim asked.

“Breakfast,” Bruce agreed. 

Mercifully, both food and painkillers awaited them downstairs. Alfred was already elsewhere in the house, but he’d left behind a note for Bruce along with his morning dose of pain medication. He swallowed it down easily with a glass of water, and then Jim followed him out to their usual seats in the gardens to admire the sunrise as they ate. There was probably something poetic in that, Jim thought - something about watching the start of the day now that he knew about Batman, rather than the sunset while he was unaware - but all he could think about was Bruce himself.

He seemed so relaxed. His hair was a mess from sleep, left tousled and unstyled aside from a quick comb of his fingers, and there was even a slight imprint of a crease on his cheek from his pillow. So far, Bruce had kept to what he’d slept in, a cosy shirt and sweats, and Jim had to admit that there was something about the look that left him reeling from the strength of his affection.

This was the start of many similar mornings. Jim could feel it. He’d missed this sense of certainty, of knowing that there was someone who was so completely willing to be open and warm and welcoming in this way. 

Jim kissed his cheek, delighting in the way he could feel Bruce smile. 

“I love you,” he said, drawing back. It was a fact, one as simple as one plus one making two. He knew that there was no question of love between them - it was, of course, what soulmates meant, regardless of how that love was actually felt - but it still felt damn good to say out loud. 

Bruce caught him with a hand on his cheek before he could go too far, drawing him back in. “I love you, too,” he said, and Jim’s heart soared as their lips met.

Jim had never thought he’d be this welcome in Wayne Manor, but it was already beginning to feel like home.

* * *

There were reports of Batman’s injury, but any genuine fears were quickly laid to rest when he appeared a few nights later. Come morning, there would be articles discussing the plans he’d foiled and the criminals he’d caught, but then, at midnight, he simply stood on the roof of the GCPD, waiting for the commissioner.

When the door opened to reveal him, Bruce smiled. “Evening, Jim.”

“Put your damn voice mod on, what if someone hears you?” Jim smiled despite himself, though, as he closed the door firmly. “I’ve got cops that are younger and sharper than me down there, they’ll work it out if you’re not careful.”

“They won’t,” Bruce said, grinning. _“You_ couldn’t, Commissioner, and _you’re_ my soulmate-”

Jim laughed, and Bruce let it go with a chuckle of his own. “Alright, Jesus.” He shook his head as he came to join Bruce next to the Batsignal. “You got anything for me?”

“Just one thing.” And then, as naturally as he would if he was Bruce Wayne, he tugged Jim closer to plant a kiss on the corner of his mouth. “This.”

“Batman,” Jim muttered, sighing in a fondly amused way, “someone’s gonna see us, and that’ll be the scandal of the decade. They’ll think we’re cooking something up.” He still kissed him anyway, and Bruce curled his fingers into the material of Jim’s coat to hold on, pleasantly satisfied. After all, he hadn’t seen him all day, and he wanted just one moment together before they parted for the night.

Eventually, Bruce let go, though it was incredibly reluctantly. “Well, the only witnesses would be your officers, and I know they respect you too much to spy.”

“You say that now, but they’re animals in there.” There was a permanent smile on Jim’s face, though, and a twinkle in his eye that only ever seemed to be there when he looked at Bruce. It made butterflies erupt in his stomach, just like they had right at the start. “You wait until we do some kind of event together, gossip spreads like wildfire with those guys.”

Bruce glanced at the door over Jim’s shoulder. “I can imagine. Do you have anything for me?”

“Actually, yeah.” Jim was all business now, his smile fading just a little, but Bruce could still see traces of it in the fine lines of his face. “We’ve heard whispers of Penguin again, I was wondering if you could keep an eye out tonight. No idea what he’s up to, but…”

He nodded. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thanks.” Jim sighed, his shoulders relaxing. “I hate to leave you, but if you need someone, Montoya’s on duty tonight. I’ve gotta get home and get some sleep.”

Bruce reached for his hand, slotting his gloved fingers through Jim’s. “It’ll be okay,” he promised. “Go home, get some rest. I’ll be fine.”

Jim raised his eyebrows. “Your shoulder?”

“Padded.” Bruce tapped at the armour. “Alfred added some to keep it a little more comfortable while the rest of the bruising heals.”

“Alright.” For a moment, Jim rocked back on his heels, seeming uncertain, but then he nodded. “Alright, I won’t keep you. Stay safe.” He pressed closer again, bolder than Bruce had expected, to brush his lips against his cheek. Quieter, just for them, he murmured, “Goodnight, Bruce.”

He squeezed Jim’s fingers. “Goodnight, Jim.” 

They kissed once more, and then Bruce stepped back. His last view of Jim was of him watching from the GCPD roof as he grappled away into the night, but his thoughts were occupied with the comfort he knew would be waiting for him come morning. As soon as the sun rose and Gotham no longer needed him to prowl the streets, there would be a spot waiting for him in Jim’s bed, where he could bury himself into his arms and catch up on sleep.

It felt like a comfortable safety net. He’d always had Alfred there too, but this was different. 

Jim was out there with him. More often than not, they worked together, and they had each other’s backs. As Jim had proven time and time again, he would be there to catch Bruce when he stumbled, and he would do the same for Jim in a heartbeat. He didn’t need the soulmate mark to tell him that.


	4. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here it is, the epilogue! Thanks for reading!

Of course, the media found out eventually, as they did with all things. Jim had been well aware that their bond wouldn’t stay secret forever, and in all honesty, neither of them had really tried to hide it. 

In the end, the reveal was a simple combination of sharp reporters and a couple of slips.

There was plenty of discussion over Jim’s frequent visits to Wayne Tower. He had never bothered being subtle about visiting for lunch; it had never seemed worth it, and most of the time, the staff were discreet. They exchanged polite greetings with Jim on his way past to Bruce’s office, but nobody ever questioned him, and he was grateful for that. They seemed to respect Bruce a great deal, and that respect extended to him, too. So, when employees of Wayne Enterprises weren’t willing to talk about his presence, the most that reporters had to go on was a snap of Jim heading in the front door.

They discovered that Bruce had met his soulmate first. Some smart photographer managed to catch a glimpse of the letters on his wrist when Bruce was in the middle of a speech, his arm raised as he gestured. His sleeve had slipped down just enough that, when the papers zoomed in on the photo, the initials were there, plain as day:  _ JG. _ Somehow, nobody made the connection to Jim and his frequent visits, and they slipped under the radar for just a little longer.

It was a full six months into the romantic side of their relationship before all the pieces of the puzzle were revealed.

Jim didn’t even know that someone had spotted his wrist right away. He was working on one of the warmer nights in Gotham, and it was hot enough that he’d left his coat in his car as he dealt with the aftermath of a robbery outside the Gotham City Bank. Idly, he rolled up his sleeves to chase a little more cool air on his skin, and he didn’t even think about the consequences of it.

It was only when he and Bruce joined Alfred for breakfast and glanced at his copy of the morning  _ Gotham Gazette _ that he saw.

_ BW, _ right there on his wrist for the world to see.

“I wouldn’t leave from the front of the house today, if I were you,” Alfred said, calmly turning the page. “There’s a crowd out there. I’d recommend the alternative car exit.”

“They’ll stay until they get some kind of statement,” Bruce replied. He sat, seeming completely unbothered as he buttered his toast. 

Jim, however, didn’t share the same sense of calm. He’d long since accepted the inevitable publicity that came with being Bruce’s partner - the fact that he was the commissioner only added fuel to the fire, he was sure - but now that he was faced with the reality of it, he wasn’t entirely sure what to do with it. What was he even supposed to  _ say _ to reporters when they asked him? The same old lines about fate bringing them together?

In all honesty, he wasn’t sure what he preferred: the heat he always got whenever a villain rose up with some new scheme, or a question about his private life in a public space. Both were equally painful.

“One statement and they’ll leave?” he asked, raising his eyebrows at Bruce. “Just one?”

Bruce inclined his head towards him. “Usually,” he amended. “At least, in my experience. Charm them enough and they’ll leave you alone.”

Jim snorted as he helped himself to some cereal. “Yeah, well, something tells me you might have to do the charming.” 

There was a little tap against his foot under the table, and when he glanced over at Bruce, there was a fond, amused smile in place on his lips. “Not in the mood to be charming?”

“Not on my day off.” He started to smile too despite himself. He always did when Bruce was around.

_ “I _ still think you are,” Bruce said. He brushed crumbs off of his fingers, and when Jim glanced up from his bowl again, Bruce looked lost in thought. “A quick confirmation might be enough,” he hummed, tapping out a rhythm against the table. “That, or we ignore them and just let it fade out of the public’s mind.”

“I’m not sure that’s such a good idea, Bruce.” Alfred’s newspaper rustled as he folded it to peer at Bruce over the top. “You’re much better off doing it on your own terms.” 

Bruce sighed. “I know.” His gaze flicked to Jim. “Do you want to, though? Talk to the press, I mean.”

“Not exactly,” Jim admitted, “but if it gets rid of ‘em, sure.”

In the end, it was somehow both better and worse than Jim had imagined. Bruce emerged from the manor first, raising his hand to wave as he approached the gate. He was sure that there was a warm, welcoming smile on Bruce’s face, and it was probably enough to excuse the fact that he stopped a couple of feet away from the fence, obviously with no intention of leaving the safety of the manor grounds. Jim heard him greeting a few familiar faces as he braced himself, and then ducked out into the sunlight.

The chatter fell away, replaced by the clatter of camera shutters and flashes. Jim tried not to grimace.

He ignored the calls for his attention - a cacophony of  _ “Commissioner Gordon!” _ rose up almost immediately - and instead, he took his place next to Bruce. All he allowed himself was a few polite nods; he left the talking to Bruce. He was better at it anyway.

For the most part, Bruce answered questions rather than offer information. Yes, they were soulmates, as they had already surmised. Yes, it had been a surprise. No, Jim interrupted, this would not affect any working relationship between the GCPD and Wayne Enterprises.

It was impressive, if Jim was honest. It reminded him a little of an interrogation - Bruce was playing his cards close to his chest, waiting for the press to reveal their hand first before he said anything. Jim did the exact same thing when he had a potential criminal on his hands and he wanted to find out how much they knew. Bruce handled it just as easily as a trained cop, probably because he did the exact same thing as Batman.

Before he knew it, it was over. The press filtered away, seeming to respect Bruce when he answered his final question. Miraculously, the last one wasn’t even about them, but was instead about the fundraiser Bruce was running in a week.

As soon as the manor’s front door was closed, Jim sunk back against it with a sigh, his eyes closed in relief. He felt Bruce settle in next to him, and he could imagine the amused smile on his face that paired with his quiet laugh.

“You’ll have to get used to that,” Bruce pointed out, “you know, dating me. Reporters like to pounce.”

“It’s not my first run in with the press.” Jim reached up, rubbing at his forehead with a frown. “I’m used to them ripping me apart over crime sprees and shit. Personal stuff… that’s a whole different game.”

Bruce’s shoulder bumped against his, and Jim opened his eyes. He was close enough that Jim could feel his breath against his cheek. “You’ll get to practice at the fundraiser next week. I’m sure there’ll be some there.”

“I’m only going for you,” Jim grumbled, tugging Bruce in just that last inch to kiss him.

He felt Bruce’s smile against his lips. “You’re going because you want to support Gotham’s LGBTQ+ youth,” Bruce reminded him as they parted. His grin had turned smug now. “You’re not going just for me. You’re acting as the commissioner to support a good cause.”

Jim raised his eyebrows. “And to be your date.”

“And to be my date.” Bruce’s fingers tangled with his own as he gently tugged him away from the door. “Come on, let’s get back to enjoying your day off.”

* * *

Jim still wasn’t really a fan of big events. He also still wasn’t a fan of the press, especially with the way they eyed him much more ravenously right now, even during an event like this. 

He was dressed a little more finely than last time - Bruce had pointed him towards a good tailor who mysteriously didn’t ask for any payment - and he shifted a little as he studied himself in the mirror in Bruce’s bedroom. His partner had long since headed downstairs; he’d vanished hours ago to make sure everything was set up properly. The catering had arrived a little late, apparently, and Bruce had wanted to make sure it was all running smoothly now. He’d left the door ajar on his way out in his haste.

Jim frowned, tugging at his tie. He looked nice, he had to admit, but he still wasn’t fond of it.

Alfred was out on the landing as Jim emerged. He had his arms folded on the banister so he could peer down at the lobby where a few guests had started to gather. As Jim closed the door behind himself, Alfred looked up. “Good evening, Jim,” he said, offering him a little smile. “Are you about to join the festivities?”

“Reluctantly,” he sighed, lingering next to him.

“Reluctantly?”

“The press.”

“Ah.” Alfred nodded. “Understandable. I certainly don’t envy your position in the spotlight.” 

Jim hummed wordlessly as he looked down below. There were already a few familiar faces down there, carrying notepads and pens. “You coming down tonight?”

“I may. I’ve already made my donation, though, so I might just have a quiet evening.”

“If you’d like my advice,” Jim said, patting Alfred’s shoulder, “take the quiet evening. I’m not sure I can get out of this early like I did last time.” He certainly didn’t want any other surprise soulmates, that was for sure. He’d had more than enough for a lifetime.

Alfred pushed himself upright again with an amused little smile. “No, perhaps not,” he chuckled. “Have a good night, Jim.”

“You, too.” 

He waited until Alfred disappeared down a corridor, and then Jim took a deep, steadying breath before making his way downstairs.

Bruce wasn’t immediately visible when he stepped around the rope that fenced off the stairs. Jim immediately felt like a fish out of water as people glanced his way, taking in the fact that he’d just come down from the upper floors of the manor. They had never explicitly discussed the nature of their bond, but there was no mistaking how familiar he was with the house. Jim just neatly placed the rope back where it belonged and tried to ignore the stares.

And then a familiar face melted out of the crowd. “Mayor Price,” Jim greeted, managing a genuine smile. “Good to see you here.”

“The same to you, Jim.” She beamed at him as she took his offered hand to shake. “When did you arrive? I don’t think I saw you come in.”

“Ah…” Jim rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “Yesterday.”

Understanding swept across her face, there and gone in a brief moment of surprise. “Of course,” she said, nodding, “of course. Speaking of, where  _ is _ Mr. Wayne? I need to give him my cheque.”

“He should be here somewhere. Haven’t seen him for a few hours.” Jim craned his neck, peering across the crowd, but he didn’t spot him. Had he decided to just join the kitchen staff instead? He didn’t want to offer to take the cheque for Bruce, but he was sure that Price didn’t want to be kept waiting-

“Mayor Price,” Bruce said smoothly, seeming to sweeping out of the crowd and into place next to Jim, “thank you for coming.” His hand came to rest on Jim’s lower back, solid and warm and comforting.

“Thank  _ you _ for hosting again, Mr. Wayne,” she replied. “Wherever would we be without your generosity?”

“Oh, I’m sure someone else would be there to help. Gotham is good at heart.” Bruce flashed her a winning smile, all charm and charisma. Just a year ago, Jim would have assumed that it was all false, just like a politician’s grin, but he could see just how genuine it was now. He knew better than anyone how much Bruce cared about this city.

Price pulled out a cheque from her pocket. “I’d like to make my donation.”

“Thank you, thank you.” Bruce folded it neatly and tucked it into the inside pocket of his jacket. “I’ll put this with the others when I have a moment.”

“Wonderful, thank you.” Price cast a quick glance around the room. Her eyebrows lifted a little when she spotted a target. “Apologies, gentlemen, but I have hands I need to shake. I look forward to your speech later, Mr. Wayne. Excuse me.” And, in a bizarre mirror to last time, she was gone again, though this time Jim was much more relieved to be alone with Bruce.

He tugged Jim a little closer with the hand on his back, despite the fact that they were in the public eye. For the moment, Jim chose to ignore the curious glances sent their way. “I wondered how long it would take for you to appear,” Bruce murmured. He shared a private little smile with Jim, full of amusement and affection. “I thought I’d have to come and find you. Do you want a drink?”

“You were the one who disappeared to check on the food,” Jim teased. He followed Bruce to the bar at the side of the lobby; it wasn’t normally there, of course, but the set up was pretty much seamless, and it now looked like it belonged there. “And yeah, I’ll take that drink since I don’t have to drive home this time.”

Bruce handed him a flute of champagne. Quietly, Jim wished it was something stronger, but he settled for a sip of bubbly. “You still have to be presentable, though,” Bruce reminded him, grinning. “I don’t think it would be in very good taste to have the commissioner stumbling around a fundraiser.  _ That _ would definitely make the news.”

Jim frowned. “I’m already making the papers,” he muttered, spying a reporter snapping a photo of the two of them from a corner. 

A hand touched his own, and he shifted his attention back to Bruce. His teasing smile had faded, replaced by something much gentler, sweeter. “Ignore them,” he said simply. “You don’t owe them anything, Jim, so just enjoy yourself. If they get invasive, we’ll kick them out.”

Jim took a sip of his champagne, using it as an excuse to mull over the question he wanted to ask. “How do you put up with it?” he asked. 

Bruce shrugged a shoulder. “I grew up with it.” He seemed almost surprised by his own answer, but he forged ahead anyway. “I just worked out my own tactics for it over the years. I figured I’d share since I’ve accidentally pulled you into it, too.”

“Hm.” Jim hummed as he automatically scanned the room, and then… stopped. 

He paused.

He turned to Bruce instead. Their fingers tangled, and Jim decided that he didn’t care if someone saw. They already knew, after all.

“I guess I didn’t think about that part,” he admitted, squeezing Bruce’s hand gently. “Somehow, I managed to forget you grew up famous. Sorry.”

“There’s nothing to apologise for.” Bruce darted in to quickly, politely, peck Jim’s cheek, and then he straightened up again with a sigh. “I should do the rounds. I’d much rather be here with you, but…”

Jim ignored the way his cheeks burned at the kiss - these events were usually classy, sure, but a little peck on the cheek was nothing, really - and, instead, he released Bruce’s hand to nudge his side instead. “Go on,” he said, chuckling. “Go be a businessman. What time does this thing finish again?”

“Eight, but I’m sure it’ll run over.” Bruce’s brows furrowed. “Why?”

Jim hid his smile behind the rim of his glass. “No reason. I’ll talk to you later.”

Bruce raised his eyebrows, playfully suspicious, but he didn’t protest when Jim waved him off. With his shield gone, the crowd seemed to open up before Jim as people filtered their way to the bar again, and with them came the chatter. There were a few recognisable faces amongst them as they approached Jim, pleased just to have Commissioner Gordon’s attention even for a moment for something as mundane as discussing the event. 

He was prepared for some comment about Bruce, but to his surprise, there wasn’t a single one.

Even when Bruce climbed the stairs for a speech like last time, nobody looked Jim’s way. Much like him, they had eyes only for Bruce, and, when he thumbed the initials on his wrist, it was with fondness this time, not uncertainty.

* * *

Jim disappeared shortly after Bruce’s speech. It wasn’t long before the party would wind down, and Bruce wouldn’t begrudge him an early exit if that was what he wanted. He knew Jim didn’t particularly enjoy events like these, but he’d still insisted on staying for the majority of it for some reason that Bruce simply couldn’t fathom. 

It wasn’t until Jim texted him that Bruce knew where to find him.

When he stepped out into the garden, Jim was there, relaxing in his usual seat. His tie was loose around his neck and the first couple buttons of his shirt were undone as he basked in the last rays of the summer light. There was a half empty beer bottle on the table, and another unopened one next to it. Drops of condensation still dotted the glass.

Jim turned when he heard the sliding door open. He smiled. “Hey.”

Bruce’s heart flipped in his chest. “Hey.”

“Is it over?”

“Yeah. Everyone’s gone home, staff included.” Bruce lingered by the door, absorbing the sight of a relaxed, smiling Jim. He was always like this when it was just the two of them - usually still just as warm when Alfred was around, too - and it was a pleasure to see him so comfortable. “What’re you doing out here?”

“Waiting for you.” Jim tilted his head towards the empty chair. “Come on, we haven’t got all evening. Sun’s gonna set sooner or later.”

Bruce laughed quietly as he pushed himself off of the doorframe. He sunk into the chair next to Jim, accepting the now open bottle of beer that he passed to Bruce. “Was this what you were planning earlier?”

“Maybe.” Jim’s fingers linked with his on the arm of his chair, as natural as anything. “I thought it’d be nice after all of that. How did it go?”

“Good. People were generous.” Bruce planned on matching the final total - or, more likely, simply tripling it - once it had been counted, but that was a matter for the billionaire version of him tomorrow. Protecting the very people that money was for was another beast entirely, and was something that Batman could address when the opportunity arose.

Right now, though, he was just Bruce, Jim’s soulmate and partner.

“Thank you,” Bruce said, rubbing his thumb against Jim’s.

Jim puffed a quiet laugh against the mouth of his beer. “For what?”

“For  _ this.” _

He watched a smile tug at the corners of Jim’s lips as their eyes met. “Nothing to thank me for, Bruce,” he said. “I just figured it’d be a good way to relax. That, and we can have something better to drink.”

Bruce laughed quietly. He twisted in his chair, turning to better face Jim, and leaned across the gap to kiss the corner of his mouth. He knew Jim preferred beer, and once he’d figured out his favourite brand, he’d started buying it a little more frequently just for him. Bruce certainly didn’t mind it; beer wasn’t his alcoholic drink of choice, but it was quickly becoming it with how much he now associated it with Jim. 

“It  _ is _ a good way to relax,” Bruce agreed, murmuring the words into the scant space between them before they kissed, slow and sweet. 

As they sat there, basking in the late Gotham sunshine, things truly felt like they’d fallen into place. They had months ago - arguably, they had that night they’d first touched hands - and now, as they parted but left their fingers entwined, Bruce still felt that same tingle of static he had at their first touch. It was muted now, more reassuring than it had been initially, but still just as vibrant as it thrummed through his chest.

Jim raised his drink, and Bruce saw his own initials on his partner’s wrist. His fingers drifted to the set on his own skin, finding their way there without looking. 

Somehow, he knew that they would have made it here anyway, even without fate’s intervention.

**Author's Note:**

> Reminder: do not interact if you ship incest.


End file.
